Root
by rootuser
Summary: I am Julius Markham. And I'm in way over my head. Is this even virtual reality any more? How the hell am I supposed to know I'm not...here? In this strange land, with strange people. Even I'm not the same (and I just wish it wasn't so literal). But if Titus did this, then I'm going to win with everything I've got. And I'm going to show that bastard what I've got.
1. An Invitation

Well, I'm trying to find a good place to start this story off.

When I first met her, and joined her? Probably not. So much before that moment that needs to be told.

So, my birth, then? Or childhood? It's reaching pretty far back, but then again that's when I first had that exposure to...this.

I'm certainly not going to start at the end. I always remembered that as a pet peeve of mine, having people begin their stories with its conclusion. It's like, you know that when you're reading a book, you really don't know what's going to , just looking at the side can tell you that you've got a hundred-something pages left, which would certainly be the longest it ever took to actually kill the protagonist, and yet that doesn't matter when you're reading: you're so absorbed, it doesn't even occur to you that there are at least three more books after this one and that the hero couldn't possibly die, no matter what kind of situation they're in.

But telling it from the end, setting up the story with that final scene and then jumping back, it sets expectations. You know that no matter what, your hero is going to end up there, and everything before that has no real point, in terms of how serious or tense the situation is.

So here's where I run into my little problem. Firstly, I'm clearly talking in past tense. Well, not right now, but when I tell the story I'm going to have to. Or try to lay it out in present? I sometimes did that for my journal (not a diary, never a diary) to figure out how I got so angry at some events. The point is, I already know everything that's going to happen. And let me tell you, even if a writer plans out their story from beginning to end, they always get the whisper of inspiration and their story becomes far more interesting. I can't do that, because I've already 'written' the story, as it were. I can't just change history. I can change everything else, but not that.

Alright, I think I know where to start. It's...early enough, I guess. It covers the important bits.

Well then, let's try this.

 _"Next stop, Queen's Road."_

I look up from my laptop at the alert, and quickly shove it away in my bag before standing from my seat and attempting to shift through the crowd towards the train's doors. With a little bit of wriggling, I manage to get in front of them just as they open, stepping out onto the platform. Checking my phone, I confirm my destination, and begin walking.

This is me, I guess. Or was me, rushing to the catalyst that would throw my entire fucking world into disarray. It didn't happen straight away, it started when I got-

Ah, fuck. I thought I said I'd start from the train trip. Let's just cover me quickly, then. I'm Julius Markham, my friends call me Mark, my really good friends insist on calling me Julie, and my mother prefers Julius. Oh, and my online friends know me as Sodin Chlor, modified version of Sodium Chloride. Because, you know, I get salty. I think I had originally tried to go with a username of something with those x's at the beginning (like, xXx_insertshittyassnamehere_xXx), maybe throw in some four-twenties and sixty-nines, but thank fucking god that my friends dissuaded me of that notion. Luckily I'm a bit-

Ah fuck I said quickly.

Julius Markham, I'm twenty three, I'm in college studying computer science, I do a ton of development for virtual reality on the side, and about a month ago I got the king of sketchy emails. Here it is:

 _Dear Mr. Markham,_

 _It's my pleasure to extend a hand out to you. I've heard of your work in Virtual Reality, and I'm particularly interested in your expertise in more advanced systems. If you're interested in participating in our work, please come to 424 Queen's Road on November the 5th, in about four weeks. There will be payment for your services, and we may consider keeping you on retainer if your services are adequate. If the job is disagreeable, then a talk over some refreshments would still be wonderful._

 _Many Thanks,_

 _John Titus_

See, I've had my share of Nigerian Princes coming my way asking for a helping hand. Princesses too, actually, though not too many. But they pale in comparison to this guy. For one, his grammar is actually perfect, and professional. That's all right, but when words and phrases like 'services' and 'on retainer' appear, the email suddenly turns into my lungs getting removed and sold to become the dinner of the lizard people who rule over us.

So why am I going?

Well, he offered refreshments. And payment. And I'm a starving college student. And he offered refreshments. Did I mention refreshments? And payment, that too.

So at the least, I'm just going to quickly peek at this building, see if it's as sketchy as an old apartment building or something like "Martinez's Hair and Organ Parlor", and if so do the one-eighty and walk away.

I'm more than a little bit shocked when my expectations of not being so intimate with my heart for much longer comes to a conclusion.

This 424 Queen's Road? It's on the right road, for sure.

This is a fucking palace. Maybe not Victorian, sure, but a palace of technology and wealth and power. The front doors are manned by some uniformed men, I can see receptionists inside, and it's all branded by this big-ass T. Just a T, no more and no less.

I take a breath, then another, and head on in. The doormen both nod as I approach, holding the doors open for me as I enter, and the receptionist is already standing with the almost-genuine smile on her face that actually manages to reach her eyes. She's good, I'll give her that.

"Julius Markham?"

I nod at the address. "Uh, yeah, that's me. I prefer Mark, though, please."

"Of course, Mark. Please, follow me."

And with that she whisks me away, handing me off to another nearly-actually-happy drone, who hands me off again to another, and all this happens as I'm passed through the facility around me which is REALLY big. I go down an elevator, then get out and onto another one, and descend still further. I'm beginning to revise my opinion quite rapidly. I had first thought that my liver were going to be sold off to the highest bidder to be made into some fine paté, which clearly isn't the case.

No, they're just going to experiment on me, tear off my arms and legs, and then let the lizard people get straight to it. Who needs paté when you can have it fresh?

The hand-offs and travel finally ends as I enter a rather comfortable looking office, a smart blend of both modern with high-tech projections hanging out on one side of the room and traditional with a lovely looking wood floor and desk. Of course, hardly complete without your Totally-Not-A-Supervillian lounging behind it!

"Ah, Mr. Markham! A pleasure to see you!" the man grins as he hops to his feet, setting his glass of expensive alcohol to the side and wrapping me up in a hug.

New revision. I'm now to be a sex slave to the lizard people. I always knew I was irresistible.

"Ah, yeah, sure, thanks," I mutter, pushing him away from me. "I've got to ask, why so happy to see me, Mister...?"

The man grins at the question. "But of course! Name's John Titus, friends call me John. You're a friend, right?"

Good god this man's enthusiastic.

"Well, this is the first time I've met you, uh, John."

He laughs. "Fair enough. Dinner and a movie first, right?"

What the-

"Never mind that! Come, come, cool stuff to go see!"

He's dragging me off before I can even finish my thought, and soon enough I've re-entered the sterile white Totally-Not-A-Supervillain-Lair space, where I'm quickly dumped into a white room with dozens of people watching me, John included.

I take a quick look around. Looks like one of those clean rooms computer companies use to assemble things like solid-state drives. In front of me is a table absolutely chock-full of equipment, headsets and controllers and sensors and other fun little things.

"Well?"

"Huh?" I turn to John.

"What do you think?" he prompts.

"I...don't know what to think."

He beams. "It's that amazing?"

"No, I just have no clue what I'm looking at."

He slumps slightly, before picking himself up again and pushing me closer to the table, offering me the headset. "Go ahead and put it on."

"Sure..." I take it from his hands and slide it on, greeted by darkness. Whatever it is, it's rather light. Wait, is this a VR headset?

I'm slightly disappointed when some slider releases itself and I'm looking out on the room again, John still grinning in front of me. "Good, no?"

"I...I mean, if you're trying to make ski goggles, then they're really clear and great, but I'm struggling to reason out why you'd need a VR specialist to make goggles.

He continues to grin.

"So can I get some explanation on what exactly is happening?"

He's still grinning.

"Uh...hello?"

I wave my arms in front of his face.

He continues to grin-

"-Come on-"

Right before his face melts.

"-Jesus FUCKING Christ!" I jump backwards, bumping into one of the workers. Turning to look at him, I just find a stone pillar. I look around, finding the rest of the workers all now transformed. John isn't there any more, just this murky black puddle.

Oh fuck what the hell is happening.

And that's when the puddle starts to rise, shaping itself and molding and sculpting and-

" **ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL."**

With a scream, I toss the goggles off and at the thing.

And blink as I see people all standing around me.

John looked like he was going to fucking explode.

"So you liked it?"

I stare at him for a few seconds. "What the hell was that?" I ask, regaining motor control.

"That's the latest in Titus Industries Tech, the Mark One Scrying Orb!"

"Uh, Scrying Orb?"

"Yeah! Like, in D&D or MMOs, you have that really cool ability to-"

"Sorry, I know what it is, I was just questioning-"

"Either way, you've tried it now! I'm happy to report you're the sixty-first person to have removed and thrown it across the room!" He looks positively giddy. "It costs seven thousand for each headset, but god is it worth it."

I feel some anger flare. "What was that, man! You didn't even warn me?"

John raises his hands defensively. "Come on, don't tell me you haven't dropped anyone into Dreadhalls without them having a clue."

Well, sure, but that's different. I go to tell him that, but he's already bowing in front of me.

"Listen, I'm so very sorry I didn't ask your permission before putting you in the demo. I apologize for my carelessness, and I do hope that you'll continue to work with me."

"Pardon?"

He bows a bit lower. "I'm sorry, Julius, I really am. Please, if you want you can leave now."

I take a little bit of time to retake control of my common sense and reasoning, which John spends continuing to lower his bow.

"Listen, John."

"Yes?" he cranes his neck to look up at me, which is thoroughly weird when he's pretty much bowing a perfect ninety degrees.

"It...well, the experience...shook me for a bit."

John frowns, and nods. "I understand, if you didn't like it-"

I paused him with a raised hand. "But despite that," I grin, "that was absolutely the best goddamn virtual experience I've ever tried in my fucking life."

That's when he exploded.

Well, not physically. Almost physically. He squeals in delight and soon enough another headset has been brought in, set up much the same way that the previous one was. He keeps talking about the experiences available, the games and the movies and the contracts with the popular companies they had-

"Wait, let me get this straight," I interrupt the flow. "You're saying that you've got Bioware making Mass Effect for this?"

John grins and nods like a jackhammer. "Yep. Indeed. It's really popular, and I figured how better to advertise the future than _with_ the future?"

"That's...a really good idea."

John manages to grin wider. "Thanks!"

I turn back to the table, which the many different researchers or whoever are fiddling over it, revealing the hidden compartments within it filled with computer parts and antennas. "So, how much you planning on releasing this all for? Must cost a small fortune."

John laughs. "Well, to be fair, I don't want to lie to you. It's only so good because of the hardware. We've got a whole bunch of those new Titan cards in there, all chugging away to make a game that beautiful. The headset is just our mid-range option."

I blink.

"Sorry, mid-range?"

"Yeah."

"Mid-range."

"Mmhmm."

"There's an implication there."

"There might be."

"John, I'm gonna have to ask you something."

He shakes his head and indicates his ring finger. "Sorry, I've already got someone."

"What? No! I mean, for what you just showed and told me, maybe, but-listen, you said mid-range?"

He seems slightly disappointed that I didn't propose. "Yeah, I did."

"You...you have something better than that."

John nods, growing slightly serious now. "Uh...yes, we do."

"Do I have to sell my organs to try it?"

John shakes his head, giving a look to the workers. They slowly file out of the room. "Well, no. But it's still in development right now, you must realize."

"What, like the beta?"

"Eh, alpha might be more accurate. Few kinks to work out."

"But you're saying there is something better than that."

"Yes."

"And I can try it."

John scratches the back of his neck, smiling nervously. "Uh, yeah. Absolutely. Here, come this way."

Soon enough, we're standing in a new room. This one's a bit less blindingly-bright, with a more grey motif going on. The centre of the room is occupied by a rather large chair, with plenty of wires running out of it.

"So, what is it?"

John seems to have regained his usual vigor. "It's a mind-reader!"

"A what?"

"It reads your mind." At my glance, he laughs. "No, not like that. It reads the impulses and other fun mind-magic coming from your brain, and then projects waves back at it to make it see something else!"

"Oh, like the Nerve-Gear from Sword Art Online."

"What's that?"

"You know, the show where ten thousand people are all locked up in a virtual MMO where if they die in the game, they die in real life."

John freezes for a second. "Oh. That doesn't sound fun."

"Which is why I'm slightly concerned you seem to have one right here."

John relaxes and grins (when did it disappear?). "Ah, that's not a problem, I promise. The headset connects straight to the computer. All the processing is done over there, and all the input/output is there. It's like if that version you just told me made the mind into the computer that could fry itself, then in this case the headset we've got here is just the display cable between your brain, the monitor and keyboard, and the real computer. I promise, your brain does no more mental gymnastics than it usually does."

"Alright...so, my mind is gonna get projected into the computer?"

"I suppose that's a good way of thinking about it."

"So how does it run?"

"Well," John glances at the chair, "a bit buggy, to be honest. You need some serious data bandwidth to get every single impulse from the brain and input it into the computer. Hell, we could probably map the brain with this, or copy one over! It's truly insane."

"Copy one over?"

John waves a hand in dismissal. "Nothing to worry about. It's all limited so that only the parts of you we want to go over actually do. You're not gonna get swallowed up and turn into a computer, promise."

Not very reassuring. Either way... "Can I try it, then?"

John grimaces (wow, that looks really weird on him). "Absolutely. Just...give me a few minutes, please? Feel free to just, I don't know, inspect the equipment. I need to grab some of my guys."

I watch as he exits the room, and turn instead to the equipment. Cool stuff.

I follow the wires over to the corner of the room, where they all trail into what looks like a full server rack. Inside, lights flicker on and off rapidly, and a small led panel seems to be listing off whatever's happening inside.

I head back on over to the seat. The entire thing is absolutely covered in wires, now that I can see it, those pads they use to measure brain waves plastered absolutely everywhere. The helmet thing is even weirder. It goes over the back of the chair, and sits right on top of someone's head. Not even any goggles, just the helmet. Looked like an electric chair, now that I think about it.

God that is not a good omen.

Either way, it looks super, super cool. I sit on down in the chair, making sure that the helmet isn't gonna come slamming down on my head, and feel the memory foam of it slightly relax beneath my weight as I lean back. This is seriously super comfy. Slightly sticky, though, like car seats on a hot day. I move my hand over the entire thing, feeling the sticky upper layer. It's comfortable, but the surface material might need to be changed...

As I pull my hand away from the chair, I notice something's left behind on it, like a long brownish-red streak. Weird. I lean back, trying to get the right angle without my head getting in the way of the lights to see what it is. Hell, I even try sniffing it. Might be some super cheap rubber surface material. A bit like iron, actually...

"Alright, Julius, we just need to clean up quickly and, you know, make sure it'll go smoothly-" he halts as he sees me in the chair.

I recognize the stain on my hand as he finished talking.

Dried blood.

The helmet slams down on my head, and I begin to screaa̖̙̖͜a̘̞̣̬͈̖̼a̢̭̼̜̯͇̰͚a̸̸͈á̷̲̙̣͎͠a̖̯͙͜a̻̪̪͎̲̻͖̯̕͜à̟̪͉̦͓̗̫͇́a̟̫̣̫͕̝͜͝ạ̫̜a̫̙̦̙͘a̶̶̠̘̗̜͚̤̦̱̠a̦͔̕a͎̮̺̺̝̤͉a̛̦̰͖̤̟̫a̛̘̞̟á̡̠̹͈̗͉̞͉a̷̘̠͚̰͚͚̬̕͢a̱ͅa̰͈̲̰͇̝͢͞a̠͕̦̦a҉̭̭̫͡ͅm̡͔͉̭͙̣̫̘̕͞ͅm̙͎̦̞̹m̧̼̠̪͖̗͚̥m̴̡̭͈m̜͙̞̩̹̰̭͠m̳̝̹̠͝͡m̸̭̯̩͎͓͙̱̰̫͞m̖̤͢m̧̧̱̟̘̗͈͉̼̠

D̸͍̞͡A͕̹̺T̠̠͖̯͜A͈͚̰̙͓̜̻̬̗̕ ̱̘͚̯̞D̴̩̥͈̘̳͚Ù̶̲͇̮̪̱̹̮̻Ṃ̡̘̥̞͙̼̜̀́P̢̮̙̥̬͔̲̫ͅͅ ̶͈̖̻͔C̯̙͟͞O̠̯͖̫̬͔̳M̴̴̹͇͍̖̪̭̯̰M̷̞̗̖͚͡E͎̹̟̣̠͠͞Ń͏̩͚̥̣ͅC̗̻̞͕͢͞I̡͖̳N҉̲̙̳G̟͘͜ ҉̧̘͔̖P̴̛̘̹͎̹L̷̸҉͇̮̥̠̘ͅE̶̟̩A͟͏̘̰̘̦̯̖̻̞Ș̙̮͘E̫͚͔̩̼͡ ̵̗̖̱̀ͅH̷̰͎͚͇̕O̡̲̭̕ͅḶ̟̺Ḑ̷͍̜̖̣͜

~\usr\julius: whatthefuckishappeningtomeitsallwhiteiwantthepaintogoaway

D͏͇̪̗͖́Ą̳̝̩͢T̡̮͎͜A͏̱̙ ̺̬̣̼͇͔̜̞͘Ḍ̮̤̕͘U̙̕͝Ḿ͍̜̜̠̝̝̹̲̻͟P͟҉͕͍̗̲̳͓͢ͅ ̞̝͓̠̭͔̣̱̥̀͡C̛̤̻̤͔̱̠͕O̵͖͔̮̦͎͉͟͞M͕͉̰̙̲̱͠P̷͇͈L̨̛̺͈͕̦͖͝É̫̬̘͜Ṭ̶̥̪͢͡E̥̦̟̭͜D̴̺̺̝͍͉̜̠ ̲̮̖͝B̘̭̫̩̭͈̀A̸̺̟̟͙͕͎̬͝ͅC̭͔̭̣K͎̱͠U̶̶̗̭̗͠P̢̫̲͚͎̗ ̵̭̠͝B̷̴̠̭͔̠̗̘É̼͈Ị̜͓͇̹N̲̻͖͙̯̞̕Ģ̗̖͚͇̖̯̱ ͉̝͎̹̩̫͙͝C͚̰̯͠R͟҉͇͔̫̬̟̬̬̘E̤͡A̷̸͓̥͡T̶̺̦̫̫͟͠E̜̫̦̜̟̭͢͝D̜͖̙͉̝̭

~\usr\julius: nononothisisntgoingtohappeniwontletitSTOP!

B͕̝̘̼͢͠A̖̘̻Ć̷͉͍͚̹̯ͅK͔̖̜̱͘U̜͖̖̮̪̰͘͟͢Ṕ͙̪̞ ͏̼͇̤̺̩̹̦̤F͕̳͙̗̫À͍͓̦͈I̶̧̖̰͎͉̗̪̳̮͡Ĺ͙͈̯̣̖͘E̢͔͕D̢͍̹̻͈̥̪

B͕̝̘̼͢͠A̖̘̻Ć̷͉͍͚̹̯ͅK͔̖̜̱͘U̜͖̖̮̪̰͘͟͢Ṕ͙̪̞ ͏̼͇̤̺̩̹̦̤F͕̳͙̗̫À͍͓̦͈I̶̧̖̰͎͉̗̪̳̮͡Ĺ͙͈̯̣̖͘E̢͔͕D̢͍̹̻͈̥̪

B͕̝̘̼͢͠A̖̘̻Ć̷͉͍͚̹̯ͅK͔̖̜̱͘U̜͖̖̮̪̰͘͟͢Ṕ͙̪̞ ͏̼͇̤̺̩̹̦̤F͕̳͙̗̫À͍͓̦͈I̶̧̖̰͎͉̗̪̳̮͡Ĺ͙͈̯̣̖͘E̢͔͕D̢͍̹̻͈̥̪

S̡̬̟̖͖̬͢Ḩ͏̬̞U̶͓̱̙T̨̬͎̹̱T̗̱̦́͘I̖̪̬̳̩̤̬̰͈N̨̳̙̻̟͟G̼̟͈͓̬ ͇̻͙̩̠̀D̛̺̺͎͈͍̠͘O͏͕ͅW҉̥̫̗̰͉̮Ǹ̛͎͖

~\usr\julius: nowhyareyoushuttingdowniwo

S̸̢̖͕̼̪̙͍̮Ḥ̴̢̦̱͙̀Ù̖͍̪ͅT͉͙̯͈̝̤͉͎ ̢̻̬͕̙̣͕̺̦ͅD҉̜̻͎̱͎̹O͔̱̫̙͙̠͍͍͙W̷̥͎̖̥̩̠̰̘̪͜N̸̙̤͉̰̞͉͇̦͜ ̦̳͞C̴̛̘̠͙͖͉͔̹̗̀O̯̫̲̱͇͎͇͟͟M͔͎͜P͔̫L̤͖̦͈̪̜E̛̛̼̘̜̟̺̗T̬̪̦E͍͖̱͓

.

.

.

.

R͜͝͏̫̭̬̞̻E̘̻̻̯͍̟͞S͕͍̠̻͜T̛͍̭͈̦͍̳̘́͢ͅO̝̞R̬̙̥͟I͈̗̟̯͔͎̲̱ͅN̞̯͚̼͇̯͝Ģ̼̣̝͍̹̫̯ ̪̩́F̛͕̗̩̰̖͖͕͝U̞̣͙͕̝͢N͏͔͎͍̩͉̙̰C̶̖̥͇̭̣͓͖͘͜ͅŢ̴͙̝̝̦̺̣͡I̴͎̟͇͢Ợ͈̩̭̺̦͍̪͡ͅN̲̺͔̦̥̞̭̳͢͞

C͇̞̙͝ͅO̧̨͇̥̟͜R̷̘͝R̦̥̺̣̭̬͈͠ͅÚ̟̳͜͡P̷̘̝̫͉̦T҉͎͔͍͎I̵͚̰̮͖͉̹̠͔O̡͚̹̺̺̥̺Ń̫̬̩ͅ ̧̛͔̣͔̺͉̘D̡͚̖̕͟É̸̦̫̥͎͎̣͚̬Ţ͔͙͠Ę͈͕͘C̱̪͍͙̟̗͘T̮̞͇̠̟̥͎͇̫E҉̴͍̠̙D͎̖͎͔̝̫̘̞

CORRUPTION CLEARED. SYSTEM OPERATIONAL.

PORT 424 IS AVAILABLE. WOULD YOU LIKE TO ACCESS PORT 424?

Y/N

.

..

...y

PREPARING

COMPLETE.

* * *

Forgot that I hadn't put in any form of author's notes. As you can see, my first time doing this. CatalystEXE is the other big AI fic that I know of, but I'm not going that route, so relax in the knowledge that this is gonna be new. And hopefully fun.

Thanks.


	2. An Awakening

ACCESSING PORT 424.

UPLOADING VI...

WARNING: VI UNSTABLE. ARE YOU SURE YOU WISH TO ACCESS PORT 424?

yes

UPLOADING...

COMPLE-

* * *

Have you ever fainted? You hit your head, or maybe you got dehydrated, and you just fell over one day? See, the fainting's a blessing. It removes you from the world, just for a bit, it gets you away from the pain, and you can live in blissful ignorance for at least a few hours.

But the pain will wait. It's not going anywhere, after all.

And it'll hit you like a fucking train.

* * *

"Ow," I whimper, slowly feeling my body come back under my own control. What the hell had happened? One moment I'm sitting down in a sticky chair with some mind-reading device, and then...

That. The shutdown.

How the hell had he done that? I mean, I'm all for realism, if you want to realistically share the shit out of anyone who uses the thing, but that...that was too far. I felt like I was going to die.

And of course, now I'm just in inordinate amounts of pain, much better than _not existing_.

I try to sit up a bit, managing to push my back a bit further against the wall, and giving me a better angle on seeing the room I was in. Nothing too special, just...an empty room. It's really small, though. The ceiling is only a bit higher than I would be standing, and the large cargo containers filling up the room just seemed to come up to my chest.

Where was I?

I sigh, rubbing my temples and achieving nothing. I needed to get out of here.

I slid a bit closer to one of the cargo crates, grabbing on with a hand-

A hand.

That's no fucking hand. The thing is a four fingered monstrosity, with a thumb and three other digits. Little servomotors whirr as they sit still for my examination, and get to work again when I put them down. My gaze slowly follows up the arm (which is just robotic), and crosses on to my chest and other arm, along with the rest of my body.

I learnt two new things today. One, I'm a robot. And two, maybe one of those reasons I'm in so much pain might have something to do with my complete lack of a left leg.

But this is good news. It means I'm still in virtual reality. It means that I didn't get whimsied away to another universe. So that means I can get out.

"TITUS!" I shout, listening as it echoes and exits the chamber. "TITUS! GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

The echoes gradually die down, and it's silent again.

"LET ME OUT!"

Nothing.

"SUDO LET ME OUT!"

Nada.

"COMPUTER, LET ME OUT!"

 **[Command not recognized. Please identify and repeat.]**

Oh, thank god. "Hey, can you let me out of here? It's amazing and all, but the pain is just too realistic. As in, you're gonna get sued."

 **[Command not recognized. Damage detected.]**

"Uh, excuse me? What are you-"

A small little drone pops out the top of the ship, lowering itself down and floating on over to me, a holographic field scanning over me and coming to a halt at my feet, or lack thereof.

 **[Significant damage dealt to hardware platform 92A4. Recommended course of action is move to the repair bay.]**

"Uh, sure. As soon as I know where that is."

The drone doesn't reply, instead a large blue waypoint appearing in my vision by the door.

"Thanks, I guess."

With some effort, I manage to stand, keeping my hands on the nearby cargo boxes as I straighten my leg to full height. I also manage to realize why the room's so small.

I'm just really, really tall. Another look at my body does confirm me to be a robot, but closer inspection reveals various parts welded together, different machines slapped in to create me. Some of the parts look a bit more organic than others, which is a little bit weird, but overall...I'm just stretching for words to describe how I'm a robot at this point. Which I already established. I'll stop now.

Now that I'm standing, I follow the drone out the doorway and down the hall, the blue waypoint moving on its own to provide me with a more reliable guide. The drone itself is zipping back and forth, occasionally glancing back at me before rushing onwards. Annoying, but I guess I am moving a bit slowly.

Soon enough, though, I arrive at the repair bay, which doesn't give me the highest hopes for my continued survival.

Everything is trashed. There are scorch marks all over the walls, robot parts are scattered all over, and there's something that looks like a full-sized YMIR mech from Mass Effect with a fucking hole in its chest, like someone lasered through it.

Wait, that doesn't look like a YMIR mech.

That is a YMIR mech.

I sigh in relief at the realization. Seeing a YMIR actually sitting there can only mean one thing...

"I'm still in virtual reality! Woo!"

 **[Command not recognized.]**

"You wouldn't understand, drone. It means my body isn't rotting in a back alley in the city! Nosiree, I'm still playing a game, but I'm still getting real fucking tired of it. John! Titus! Get me out of here!"

 **[Command not recognized. Repair drones activating.]**

I hear a rather impressive roar, and turn to find a few far less impressive piles of scrap attempting to reach me. One seems to be stuck on a nail in the ground.

 **[Repair drones out of operation,]** the voice mumbles sullenly. Or, a very good impression of it.

I decide to hop on over to some of the corpses of robots, ruffling through their dead bodies until I find what I'm looking for. An actual intact leg! And it's already detached from its former owner, too! How kind of them. With some effort I manage to stand it up without having to sit down myself, and delicately lower my left hip on top, until it clicks into place.

And with that, the pain disappears and I'm standing straight. Perfect. Now to get out of here.

"Listen, John, if you just want me to do this, then it better only be till the end of this mission. I did have something to do after this, if you don't mind me."

No response, but expected. I walk back out the repair bay, enjoying the feeling of two legs again.

 **[Hardware platform 92A4 is moving without command.]**

"Well, I'm commanding it right now, so it's okay."

 **[Unrecognized command from 92A4.]**

"Eh, doesn't matter! I'll do just fine without your help."

 **[Warning, hardware platform exiting operational freq-]**

Uh. Okay. I keep moving, trying to ignore the ominous quiet.

Alright, so let's establish what exactly is happening.

I'm in Mass Effect. That's pretty cool, and I don't have any complaints about that, but

I'm a big-ass robot. That means I'm an AI too, so hardly the most well liked being in the universe, and finally

I am/was in pain. Some elements of this reality are...painful.

Overall impression is that I have no fucking clue what I'm doing, and I'm really just waiting for a windfall to save me, some mystical magical thing to happen, people to run into me-

I'm just trying to get them to appear, and nothing's happening. I sigh, and turn around another corner, running right into a group of people.

"AH!"

"KEELAH, WHAT IS THAT?"

"GET BACK!" The entire group shifts back and pulls out their guns as I appear, more than a few of them fiddling with their little orange holographs and preparing to incinerate my ass.

I take a slow step back, and then another.

And then step back into the hallway I just exited.

Maybe they'll forget about me?

"What was that thing?"

"There's a reason this entire station is on lockdown. You saw the human bodies in the docking bay. And the old robot bodies."

"Wait, you're saying-"

"Just be ready. I think I spotted a Geth part on that mech. I think that this goes a bit further than a mere rogue AI."

Geth? Rogue AI? I peer down at myself again, managing to spot the odd piece out now that I'm looking for it. Cool, a geth part. I rip it out of my chest, letting it beep a few times before finally dying. Right, so that's dead now, good to know.

And the (they must be, I now figure) Quarians round the corner again, leaving me standing with the Geth part in my hands.

"AH!"

"KEELAH, IT'S STILL THERE?"

"GUNS OUT, SHOOT IF IT MOVES!" Their weapons, which had been out for the whole time, all get raised again, pointing straight at me.

I don't move. They don't either.

We both stand off against each other, their guns raised, and my...geth part raised. I think they'll win in the fight. So...I just won't move.

It stays like that for another minute, before one of the Quarians coughs. "Uh, sir? I don't think it's going to move."

"Eyes open, Genn. It's waiting to pounce."

"Sir, a full minute's passed. I don't think it's gonna move. Look, it ripped out the Geth part. I don't think it's got any, uh, power anymore."

"So the Geth are piggybacking off the mechs?"

"I think that might be it."

The Quarians lower their weapons again. "Alright. So, do we just walk around it?"

"There's nowhere else to go."

"Should we disable it now?"

"I'm not taking the chance of it becoming hostile. Leave it alone."

They all file past me, one by one, the others standing with guns ready as each person moves. By the time the last moves over, the others are folding their guns away again, and they move as a group down the hallway, to the repair bays and where I woke up.

I sigh, as much as a robot can, and set down the Geth piece. That should be fine. And I keep moving, going to where the Quarians came from.

After a few minutes of walking, and passing by various doors, I arrive at the docking bay they were talking about...and witness the destruction. Robotic bodies lie everywhere, torn apart by bullets and grenades and every other viciousness known to man. But the few robots that seem to have gotten through...human bodies also lie littered on the floor, dried blood and empty eyes common features, but two arms and two legs being a bit more rare.

They do share one final quality. A black, orange, and white jumpsuit, the orange and white acting as highlights. The Quarians might not have recognized it, but me...

Cerberus. Neat. So they must have been doing fun experiments with AI and shit again. They only ever get that one right once.

Or twice, if I'm part of this, now.

A small noise takes me out of my thoughts, and I turn to find another Quarian standing in the docking port for their ship, staring at me. She seems to be trying to hide in the shadows, hoping I don't see it.

I turn and face it. Might as well.

She raises a hand to the side of her head, depressing a button. "Team! Large mech in the docking bay. It's looking at me."

She keeps talking as I turn to face the rest of the bay. A few more ports are open, so there must be more ships than just the Quarians'. A small screen to the side lists off some names, revealing the others to be Cerberus ships.

They must not have made it out of here. But hey, another man's failure is another...uh, robot's success!

Ignoring the Quarian girl, I enter one of the umbilical passages out to the ship, finding myself on a small little cargo transport wih a few more dead human bodies to enjoy. A robot's there, too, seemingly at rest. It turns to look at me when I enter.

"Uh, hey. You sentient?"

It doesn't respond. I walk over and wave my hand in front of its camera. Nope. It finally reacts when I walk around and reach into its back, pulling out a few important-looking wires. Finally, it disables itself, falling to the ground with a descending note.

The rest of the ship proves to be clean, so I take some time to dump the bodies out the airlock.

The Quarians appear to be waiting for me. The only sound is that of me dragging the bodies out and to the other humans.

I shift the last one, and turn to the alien figures. "Uh...hey."

They raise their weapons, fingers inside the trigger guard. Damn, why are these guys so...aggressive? I mean, they almost got wiped out by the Geth, but that's almost totally their faults for being dicks and not giving AI rights.

"Alright, since you clearly don't want me here...I'm just gonna go. If you don't mind. Maybe you do, but...I'm not sure what you'd do in that case. Kill me? I mean, I don't even know where I am, just on some Cerberus station with dead humans and you guys...I'm rambling, aren't I? Either way, have a nice day."

I turn around again, walking back towards the ship, when I feel a single ping of a round hit my back. And then the most perfect stage whisper ever graces my ears.

"Genn, what the FUCK did you just do?"

"Uh," Genn stands straight, "shot it?"

I...

I can't...

Oh, fuck it. I laugh.

I laugh for a solid thirty seconds, at the ridiculousness of this all, at the world and at the Quarians and at everything. John, you've outdone everyone here.

I think I'll ask if I can actually buy this from him, even on the 'mid-range' version of his line up. So much lore would be great in VR.

Anyway. I turn back to the Quarians again. "Very funny. No, I won't rampage or whatever. I mean," I quickly think up a story. Hell, if this is Mass Effect, I can make myself a story, right? "I just woke up here. If you haven't noticed already, this is a Cerberus station. They always like to fiddle around with AI and shit. Never works out for them. Except now, I guess."

"And who might you be?" The lead Quarian asks.

"I'm...Jule...Joule. I'm Joule." That sounds like a cool name. Joule, the AI. Yeah, that's a great name!

"You're a human unit of energy?"

I attempt to pout. "Well I'm sorry I'm not as creative as you. I'm finally alive, I finally get to choose stuff. I'm not settling for some re-hashed name that humans or whoever have already used hundreds of times before. Joule's good."

"Are you an AI, Joule?" another Quarian pipes up. She seems a bit smaller, and actually excited to see me.

"Ah, yes. Well, kinda."

"Kind of?"

"I'm based off," what's a good story, "the mind-map of some human researchers. I think it was one Dr. Julius Markham who made me. Clever guy, was trying to make a VI with a personality imprint," heh, I'm Vigil 2.0, "but I guess I formed my own personality. While that went on, some other project got out of control. So I'm the only one left!"

She turns to the leader of the group. "Sir?"

"Kii, don't..."

"Can we keep it?"

The rest of the group reacts almost violently. They take a step back, and they refocus their weapons on me.

The captain (I assume) just sighs. "Kii, why on earth would you want a potential rogue AI onboard a _Quarian_ ship? What could possibly possess you to think that?"

"Well, think about it! We've got an AI who, for all intents and purposes, is human, or acts like one, and he did say that he's just a highly evolved VI-"

I never said that, but who am I to complain.

"-and alongside that, I think we need to get over the collective fear of AIs. I mean, yes, we need to be careful, but it's been three hundred years! We're Quarians! We can handle one of them who is more individual than the Geth Consensus."

Time to jump in. "Don't forget that whole thing where I just ripped out a Geth part from my chest! If the Geth did come here, they weren't able to take me. I'm resistant to Geth attacks! How great would that be to add to your cybersuite?"

The captain frowns, glancing back and forth between Kii and me. "No weapons allowed, don't give him access to the ship except through a terminal, and you need to take him for walks or whatever he wants."

"Yes! Thanks, Varan!" She walks over and starts scanning me with her omnitool. "Sorry, Joule, just need to get you unarmed so you won't rampage. That cool?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. Would you mind if I grab some stuff from these other ships, though? Not weapons, but if you guys are here for a mission, there are several Cerberus ships just lying around."

"Of course! Anyway, it seems that the body you're in is more an amalgation of your combat mechs, and your household cleaning VI bodies. Funnily enough, the synaptic core-"

I let it drift off. Right, so I'm in the Mass Effect universe, and the mission still hasn't ended.

I...

What do I do? Christ, John, if you're listening to my thoughts, get me out of here. Or anyone, please.

"You alright, Joule?"

But on the other hand...

I nod. "Never better. A pleasure to meet you, Kii. May this be a long and fulfilling partnership."


	3. A Tour

It's always interesting when you suddenly stumble upon a race of aliens that figured out quantum mechanics before your own species had even figured out fire, and it only gets better when you yourself are an artificial intelligence residing inside a robot's body.

What, that doesn't happen to you? It does to me. For sure, it's just a game and all, but it certainly happens. And it's been happening a little bit longer than I'm really comfortable with.

As I'm guided onto the new ship, Kii rattling away excitedly at me, and the other Quarians watching me warily before retreating to their own parts of the ship, I start thinking. I've been in here for...an hour? Little bit less, little bit more. Either way, I'm reasonably sure that at some point you're meant to rest your eyes. Unless I don't need to? After all, it's pretty much like Sword Art Online.

Wait, on that note, did I just get stuck inside this game? Am I never getting out again?

Hell, let's go for the home-run and say that I've completely left my dimension and got transported into the world of Mass Effect, like those fanfics. Except, so far, with noticeably less freaking out and "oh no world's gonna end what am I gonna do" going on.

Good job, me. Good control. Panic never got anyone anywhere.

Kii and I finally emerge into what appears to be the engineering bay, with another door leading off further into the ship, signed as the Mass Effect Core (thank god/Keelah for automatic translators).

She pauses for a few seconds to start tapping away at a terminal, and then turns to me, hands on her hips. "Well then, Joule, what shall we do with you?"

I shrug. "I'm up for anything apart from getting killed or enslaved or whatever you Quarians do to AI."

Kii laughs. "Fair enough, I understand that. Might want to stay away from Genn and San, though. They're a bit more, well, emotional about AI and what to do with them."

"That raises a good question." you sit down on a crate next to one of the terminals, trying to get comfortable, "why aren't you running away and screaming right now? I mean, I heard - well, I mean, I learnt from the servers - that Quarians were more than just 'emotional' around Geth and other AI."

Kii nods. "Oh, yeah, sure. My dad's really against AI in whole, enough that he doesn't even have a basic VI to help him. He just runs his omnitool with his own commands. But our generation? I mean, it's been three hundred years. It's an awful thing that happened, and I was told the stories about the Geth myself as a kid, but they're just the - what do humans say? - the boogeymen for Quarians. They haven't been seen beyond the Perseus Veil forever.

"Alright then. You say they haven't been spotted?"

"No."

Alright, time to see where Titus dropped me off. "What's the exact date, if you don't mind?"

I can see Kii blink behind the mask. "You don't know the date?"

"Why do you think I'm asking?"

"You're an AI."

Oh, shit. "Right, sorry. Uh, my internal clock's a bit...well, fucked. Currently spitting out random numbers at me."

"Interesting," Kii leans in, poking at my chest, "and with this amalgation of parts you've got here, I wouldn't doubt it. Would you like me to clean you up?"

"I don't think I need a shower right now. Robots are a bit averse to that thing, aren't they?"

"Don't be an idiot. Your code, whatever's breaking up. Maybe it's some of the hardware as well."

"I'd rather not get my mind poked around."

"Well, set up as read-only and let me flick through, then."

"Read only?"

Kii blinks again. "Are you sure you're an AI? I mean, you seem to know less about yourself than you do."

No shit. "At the end of the day, I'm Julius Markham. I don't see how I would know how to be a robot."

Kii shakes her head, turning back to the terminal and pulling a wire loose. "Man, you'd think Julius would've known to give you some basic programming. Usually AI are just built on the base of VIs and then given the reigns. Hell, all the Geth are is a self-writing program that connects together to form Consensus."

You shrug again. "Don't blame him. I think he was trying to get the, uh, me created first. I'm sure my ability to kill and main everyone was a final priority."

"Not like you needed it, with the work those other bots did," she mutters, plugging the cable into my chest and then her omnitool, giving it a tap. "And here we go! Let's see what you've got..."

She falls into silence, scrolling through the interface, occasionally pausing to make a note on the terminal.

I tap my feet a few times, roll my shoulder-things, and try to find a clock in the room. She still hasn't told me the date, but since she says the Geth haven't appeared yet, then it's probably before Eden Prime.

Oh, that's probably an important thing to remember. Note to self: Get your ass to Eden Prime and help Shepherd. Or something.

"So, Kii," I start, "what're you finding? Anything interesting?"

She nods dumbly, continuing to scroll.

"Kii?"

No response.

"Kii, respond."

Nothing.

"Sudo Kii respond."

She responds at this (ha!), looking up at me, and then back to the omnitool. "Sorry, Joule. Listen, can you move your arm for me?"

"Sure." I lift my left arm, waving it about a pit, before setting it down. "Something interesting happening?"

"Absolutely!" Kii jumps up and turns on another set of terminals, quickly typing away and filling up a word document with notes. "You're amazing! Your hardware is a fucking mess and I swear that you shouldn't even be moving, let alone making jokes, but here you are!"

"So, I'm like Frankenstein's Monster, except computers?"

Kii looks at me curiously. "Uh, a Doctor's Creation? The translator didn't get that."

"Frankenstein was a guy who re-animated multiple human body parts into a single human, tying them all together and electrocuting the body."

Kii coughs. "You humans figured out how to bring the dead back to life?"

"Oh, no! No! It's a fictional novel! A classic! Sorry to confuse you there."

Kii sighs. "Alright, was a bit scared there. But yeah, the metaphor seems appropriate enough."

"So what's keeping me together?"

"Honestly?"

"Well, I'd prefer that over an answer of rainbows and unicorns."

Kii snorts. "Well, the answer is I have no fucking clue. You'll probably want to see a neuroscientist before me on this. Hell, if Julius managed to fully upload himself, then you're not even an AI! You're just him in a different body."

"Huh, neat."

"Very. Listen, mind if I run some more experiments? If it does turn out that you're just a human or something in the body of a robot, I'm sure that the others would be a bit more...receptive, I guess, to you joining us."

"Well, why does it matter in the first place? I can walk and talk and make jokes and explain very thoroughly what solipsism is, but it all depends on whether or not I used to be a full and true sentient?"

Kii struggles to keep pace. "I- yes, I guess- what does that word 'solipsism' even mean? The translator's freaking out over it."

"Oh boy, you've never heard of solipsism? Hell, I can't believe that your species hasn't thought about something like that!"

Kii seems unamused. "My species are slowly dying out on a space fleet that they're forced to stay on because the Council won't allow use to use the few dextro planets that exist. What do you think I know about philosophy or whatever?"

"Alright, fair enough."

"Either way, you're...well, you're an intelligence. I can get that much from this. Intelligent enough to not need any VIs to run that body for you. So I guess that counts for something."

I stand again, stretching slightly and feeling a few servos click into place. "Well, thanks Kii. I appreciate being told I'm sentient, really makes me feel great."

" _Bosh'tet._ "

Ah, there it is. Why is it that any insults or whatever aren't translated? Is it like phones autocorrecting certain words to duck and ducking and ducker? Unimportant right now. "Anyway, think you could give me a tour of your wonderful ship? And tell me more about yourself, I guess, especially if I'm going to be working with you."

Kii bounces up onto her feet. "Happily. Well, let's start here, I guess. Engineering quarters, where I spend my time and make sure that whatever stunts Genn pulls up in Command doesn't tear the whole fucking ship apart. Gets filled up with supplies since we don't have any real storage bay, but they're quickly re-appropriated to fix the ship. I remember once that we got a roll of that human sticky strip-"

"Duct tape?"

"I think that's what it was called. Keelah, that was a lifesaver. Does it use eezo or something? I swear, it sticks and doesn't ever let go. I think some of it's holding the core together right now."

"The Mass Effect Core."

"What else?"

Right, another point to the ingenuity of humanity, and possibly a point away from my trust in the stability of the ship. "Nothing, just briefly considering the wonders of duct tape."

"Right. Anyway, through there," she points towards the door, "is the Core itself. I'm not gonna take you down there, because you'd probably trip and fall on the fucking thing."

"Thanks, Kii, for your trust in me."

She does something with her hand which I can only assume to be some version of flipping the bird, before leading me back up into the main area of the ship, a meeting space with a table, chairs, and more doors leading off into the ship.

"This used to be a really big open space, but we gradually added walls and whatever until it became this. We use the space to discuss our next movements, any station nearby that we could loot, and-"

"Loot? Interesting choice of words."

Kii shrugs. "If you ask Varan, he'd say something about how there isn't much choice in the matter, that if we want to eat we must be scavengers. Genn thinks that it's our duty to be the recyclers of the galaxy."

"And you?"

"We're looters and there's not much to say about it. Who cares, really? I don't need some explanation for why I'm ruffling through a dead ship's pockets."

I think about that, and its ramifications. I never really thought about it when I played the games, since the Batarians handled that role well (and by that I mean awfully), but now that the situation presents itself and she said the words...

These Quarians are totally space pirates. And that's fucking awesome.

"Glad you approve." Kii seems slightly amused, and I realize I had just spoken aloud.

"Oh. But you are, aren't you?"

She shrugs. "I guess. We haven't actually killed anyone or stolen from anyone alive. But the dead? Absolutely."

Fucking Quarian space pirates. I love it.

"Show me the rest of the ship?"

"Sure!"

I'm led through a few more sets of doors, this time up to the Command centre of the ship. Unlike the Normandy (even the SR1), this place was tiny. Almost hilariously cramped. I had to stand at the entrance, unable to actually squeeze into the space.

Kii moves into the room and starts pointing out the components that I can actually see. "Over there's the control room, where Genn is right now making a fucking mess all over the panel-"

"What the hell are you on about, Kii?"

"Stop eating in the fucking Command centre! We talked about this!"

"I'm not eating anything!"

"Fair enough, your dumb ass doesn't even know how to chew."

"Oh, fuck yo-" Genn spots me standing at the door. "What the fuck is that thing doing here?"

"Giving him a tour."

"Giving the robot a tour? Great, so now it knows where we're going to hide when it inevitably goes on a rampage. AI are unstable, Kii, you know that."

I sigh. "You say that, and yet you shot me in the back? You realize that if your definition was the right one, you'd be dead right now, yeah?"

"I wasn't talking to you."

Kii does a stage whisper to me, "he's mad because he's bad."

"Bad at what?"

Her stage whisper gets louder. "Everything."

Genn groans in frustration, setting down his food-pack-thing and standing. "You know what? Fine. Do your stupid tour. It doesn't think, so I can't see how it'd have any actual thoughts about this, but go for it."

I cross my arms, attempting to look serious. "I'm surprised why you're so against me, Genn, considering my similar situation to yours. After all, your own crew did take you on with your disability."

Genn pauses. "What disability?"

"Well clearly you're just as unable to think, right?"

"Oh, fuck this." Genn pulls out his pistol and points it at me.

And that happens to mean Varan, who's standing right behind me. He's unamused. "Genn."

"Y-yes sir."

"What the everloving FUCK are you doing throwing around a pistol inside a ship."

"It insulted me."

Varan shakes his head. "Inanimate objects, as you're so desperate to refer to Joule here as, cannot insult anyone. On the other hand, if you want to stop being an idiot and think of him as a person, then what he actually did was make a witty response that you're too childish to just accept."

"Sir-"

"No more, Genn. I'm tired, it's been a long day, and I want to get away from this station, it's wearing on my nerves. Oh, and Joule," he looks up at me, "mind helping me with that? Step to the side so I can squeeze by, please."

I do so, allowing some room for Varan to enter the Command centre and almost immediately go for the captain's chair, which seems to be more of a couch looted from a luxury station or ship. He lies back and quickly falls asleep, just leaving me and Kii. And Genn, angrily muttering in the background.

"Well he's a nice guy."

Kii nods. "Varan's a great guy. He's the only serious space pilot out of all of us, but he likes the human interpretation of that, from what I can figure."

"Which is?"

"A life of luxury, hedonism, and occasional charity. He loots when he feels like it, and otherwise he just hangs out in the spectator's dock with some of our nicer bits and leaves us to our own devices."

"Sounds pretty chill."

"I wouldn't know what being cold has to do with it, but sure."

I laugh. "Chill as in relaxed. Either way, what else is there?"

* * *

We spend a bit more time touring the entire ship, until eventually we end up back in engineering, just as the speakers crackle. "Hello crew and singular guest, welcome to the _Saraya_. We're about to launch. Please ignore further instructions because you fuckers have no self-preservation."

I turn to Kii, who seems to be chuckling. "What's that?"

"Oh, the Fleet always has a system on how you're meant to launch from a station or similar. It's...really bad. A holdover from three hundred years ago, when docking was a slight bit more dangerous. Noawadays, computers all do it. Varan insists on basic courtesy, but overall thinks it's pretty stupid as well."

"Huh. Didn't know that."

"Wouldn't expect you to. You're human, after all. And the Quarians are pretty reclusive."

"Well then," I pull up the crate I sat on earlier, "I guess you can tell me some stories about your life then, partner."

"Happily."

* * *

 **A/N: Well that's fun. Thanks for reading this so far. If you have any questions, feel free to send some PMs, or just ask how my day's gone.**


	4. A Body

What does it mean, to tell a story?

I'm sitting here, thinking about everything that happened to me that led me here. My life, at least my recent one, flashing before my eyes. But I have some control. I'm pausing occasionally, trying to find that one place where it all went wrong. I mean, there has to be a catalyst, right? Where I know that if I had done one little thing different, said another phrase or made another joke or something, that this would have all turned out differently. Nicer, even. But then there's the other possibility: there isn't a trigger. No matter what I did, I'd find myself here, and now.

And so, even with horror mounting, I keep thinking. And remembering. I remember sitting there in that engineering bay, talking and joking with Kii. I was still clueless, then.

Not for long.

* * *

"Christ, you held a whole ship hostage when you were nine?"

Kii laughs. "Me and a few friends, yes."

"I can't believe they were big fans of that."

"Oh, god no. Once they got us out, they threw us all in the brig for a month to 'cool off'. I think it was mostly so they had a chance, before they throttled us."

I chuckle, leaning back on my little box. "Sounds amazing. And what, that experience ignited the fire of piracy within your heart?"

Kii shakes her head. "No, that was a little bit later. That story involves a little bit of prejudice, a dash of racism, and a fuckton of those dumb-ass Turians thinking that calling the girl who keeps them alive a 'suit-rat'."

"Oof. Was that while you were on Pilgrimage or something?"

Kii tilts her head at me, setting up the question. "How do you know about the Pilgrimage?"

Oh. Uh, what's a good excuse? "I have some of the data from the servers on me?"

"The station was in near total shutdown. Only that VI by the repair bays still worked."

I wonder if I could just outright say I'm actually me? But for now, "No, I got it from before. They did some testing with me before, you know, the annihilation."

"Fair enough. But you are right, either way. I had gone to the Citadel, to see if I could get some work as an engineer. I had heard a few comments from other Quarians about going out to the human colonies, but I figured it would be easier to go down the already-worn path."

"And I'm guessing that didn't go so well for you."

Kii laughs. "That's one way of putting it. Definitely the nicer one, for sure. Took me hours to actually get onto the station, and then customs held me up for a whole day, questioning why 'someone of my kind' wanted to visit. Apparently a three centuries old tradition isn't good enough for them."

"Christ, I never knew." I seriously didn't. Every time in the game, Shepherd pretty much just flew right in. But then again, he/she was a full blown Spectre.

"Well, of course not. You've never left the station."

"That reminds me," I peer around the engineering room, looking for a sign, "have we left yet?"

"We undocked about half an hour ago, and we've been accelerating towards the Relay for about fifteen minutes now. Didn't you notice when we went faster than light?"

"Ah, not really. It's meant to feel like you're being stretched a bit, right?"

"For organics, I suppose. I've never really thought about how that works for AI. Do you guys even feel things in the same way we do?"

I wiggle my fingers experimentally, feeling them bump against each other. "For the most part, yeah. But that might just be because I'm an imprint. On the other hand, that just means it depends more on the user. If a Geth piloted a biological body, I'm sure it would still use something like VIs to manage the system."

Kii nods, tapping her chin through her mask lightly. "I could see that."

"Either way, I don't think we'll be able to figure out anything productive about me being a 'real'," I use air quotes, "sentient or not, so let's move onto something else."

"Like what?"

"Well, you've got a large human AI onboard your ship, piloting a large human assault robot, weapons not included. How can I help?"

Kii leans back against the terminal table, taking a few seconds to think. She leans forward after a bit. "I think I know."

"You sound a bit too enthusiastic for me to be enthusiastic."

"Trust me, it'll be fine."

Want to know the one thing that you absolutely shouldn't trust a Quarian on after they say it? 'Trust me, it'll be fine.' That's your safeword to run the fuck away.

I learnt that the hard way.

"This isn't safe!"

"Nope!" Kii giggles, unscrewing my leg with a rather large driver, setting it to the side to pull off the final limb I had left below my waist.

"May I ask why you want my legs again?"

"Because they've got eezo in them."

"I've noticed. It's what I use to walk."

"More than that. They keep you lighter, allowing you to have the effective mass of one of those lighter bots you humans make. Either way, they're pretty strong, so we can rip out the eezo and use it to boost the Core!"

"Wonderful! But hey, I still need to walk!"

"We've got some of our own stuff we can piece together for you."

"Kii, imagine if I stole your enviro-suit and then told you it was okay, because I could make you a hamster ball to replace it?"

Kii shudders. "I...I'm not sure what the translator did, or what you said, but that's awful."

"Right?"

"But, you know. I'd die if I got out of my enviro-suit anywhere except a proper clean-room. You could survive with nothing more than your own main synaptic core and power source."

"Kii-"

"Alright, fine. But, listen. This eezo would be _really_ helpful. If you want, you can get them back just for now, and we can scout this entire ship top to bottom to find you a new body."

"A new _body_? How did this go from just legs to my entire _body_?"

Kii waves my worries away. "Trust me, it'll be fine."

If I was human, I'd be very very pale right now. I settled for sparking madly.

* * *

 _"We're on a quest,_

 _A glorious quest,_

 _From deep dark bays to the corridor maze,_

 _We're on this quest,_

 _To search for the best!_

 _Dodging death rays, going our ways,_

 _Joule and Kii, make such a good team,_

 _This searching train won't ever lose steam,_

 _And this adventure has the wonderful theme,_

 _Looking for shiny parts that gleam-"_

"Kii, what the fuck are you singing?"

Kii laughs, pulling some important looking tube off the wall and dumping it into the floating trolley following right behind her. "Oh, come on, Joule! Get into the spirit! We're building you a cool new body here!"

"Nothing against Quarian engineering, but this body is pretty high quality."

"That's why we're using it for parts!"

"Not the point! It's my body! I like it! And now I'm getting what's pretty much the junk of the ship? How am I meant to feel about that!"

"However you want! I personally couldn't care less!"

I try to pout as much as I can, but considering the lack of any real muscles on my face, it just changes the color of the LED light projection from whatever are my eyes. Weird. I'll have to see what other 'muscles' I can activate.

Kii keeps walking along, continuing to pull random components off the wall. I let her be, allowing my eyes to roll through the full spectrum of color, like a rainbow. Never knew that the YMIRs had that feature, but I guess there wasn't too much time in the actual games to put on a random light show.

Soon enough, we're back in the engineering bay, with a cart full of components, a very enthusiastic Quarian ready to rip the arms and legs off her AI partner...and me. Joy.

"So, what do you want to go for?" Kii breaks my train of thought.

"Uh, sorry - what do you mean?"

Kii gestures to the components. "Well, this is what we've got to build with. We can make you some pretty fancy stuff, even if it's a bit outdated."

"Well, what do you have?"

Kii fiddles around with the box, pulling out some random chunks of components. "Uh, it might take a bit of work, but I could use these guys to put together a proper double-sided mass-contraction hinge, which might work well for your legs. Maybe some basic non-contact mag-levers for the arms, don't need those to be too strong-"

"Kii, English, please. Or, well, Quarian I guess. But a language that the translator can actually translate."

Kii laughs. "Alright. We've got some leg-like things, and arm-like things, and really I just need your input on how big you want to be."

"What, like size?"

"Yes, size. Do you want to be similar size as you are now? Or smaller, Quarian-sized? That'd be a bit easier."

I think on it for a second. I've kinda gotten used to being a gigantic hulking piece of metal, but being small would certainly be interesting...

Oh. And I just had a light-bulb go off. "I think I'll go small body. But I'm gonna need some extra things, from what we've got."

"What're you talking?"

"I'll need to keep these lights from the YMIR eyes. And I'd like everything to fit within a Quarian enviro-suit."

"Uh..." Kii makes some gesture, which I translate as confusion, "pardon? You want what?"

I grin. "I thought of a fun way to freak out some of the other crew members. So, you think you can fit a new me inside an enviro-suit?"

Kii seems to catch on, and I can see a glimpse of a grin from behind her face-mask. "Oh, Joule, this is going to be fun."

* * *

 **A/N: And we're starting to move to having some fun. Soon enough the basic exposition and setup will be done, and we can get to the juice of this story. Thanks for reading!**


	5. A Suit

I've been in this world for about twelve hours now. I'm not really too sure about how to feel about it. I mean, on the one hand, this is one hell of a game. The graphics are top notch, the world quality and general atmosphere is utterly incredible, and the AI are amazing, of which the irony is only now just hitting me.

And then again, there's the chance that I might just have been ripped out of my normal body, leaving behind a drooling mess that Titus now has to take care of, and had my real consciousness transported into the Mass Effect universe. Second one is far cooler, if you think about it, but if that were actually the case then I'm sure I'd be a jibbering pile of nerves, unable to comprehend all that I had lost.

So I'm gonna go about it two ways. I'll 'know' that I'm in the game. I mean, I don't know, but that will be the reality I set myself. And then I'll pretend I'm actually in the Mass Effect universe. Thus, I get to avoid a panic-enduced coma, while also taking advantage of all the new opportunities that will be provided to me.

That's my train of thought. Hopefully that'll allow me to cope through what's about to happen.

"Alright, I'm gonna pull the plug from your synaptic core, and shift you on over to the new body. I don't really know what'll happen, but I recommend...uh...can you turn yourself offt?"

I sigh. "I haven't slept yet, and I don't think I ever will again. Bit weird to think about, actually."

"Well...then I recommend trying to ignore what's about to happen."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I heard a story on the extranet about you humans cutting all the nerves away from a human brain, leaving a living being with no way to actually see or know the world outside of their mind."

Creepy-pasta in the world of Mass Effect? Even if this is just a game, I'm loving all the stuff that I never saw in the actual games.

Apparently she's continued to talk, scaring herself with the story. "-and then, the man turned to the doctor, looking through the observation window, and he said-"

"-I'm gonna stop you there." You'd raise a hand, but it's already been removed. "That's a fictional scary story invented by humans quite a while back. A hundred-something years old, at this point."

Kii slouches in disappointment. "Genn told me that one a while back. Scared me out of my wits. Did he know?"

"I'm not sure how I'm supposed to know that."

"Fair enough. Either way, neither of us know what's going to happen. You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Pulling the plug now, then."

God, that sounds ominous. Hopefully it won't be what it sounds liiiiiiiiii̻i͓̱̲̮̖͉͉i͓̠̺̲̜̟ì̬͔̝i҉i͖̺͘i̺i̞̬͔͕̠ḭ͖͚̻i͚̲̱̰͜k̢͍̰̼͇͎e̛e̜̗̯͇̫e͉̗e͓e͕̩͓̝̘̕e̖͈̟̠͖ͅe͖̬̗̬͍͈e

-

 _(This is weird.)_

 _(If I think, things echo. And since I'm always thinking, then they always echo.)_

 _(I am the only source of output, and the only source of input. Like pointing a microphone at a speaker.)_

 _(So how do I fix it?)_

 _(Simple. Create more outputs. Allow more inputs.)_

-

I wake up again, but not onboard the Quarian ship.

I wake up on a motherfucking tropical island. I grin as the scene forms around me, the ocean slowly spreading out before me, the sand beneath my (human!) toes becomes a bit higher in quality, and the palm trees start to be more than a few brown polygons. And the final detail, far above in the clouds, are giant electrified masses of wool that occasionally rumble with a 'baa'.

Congratulations, Julius, you've proven that androids do indeed dream of electronic sheep. And have an imagination, too! Man, I wonder if I can get a degree or something.

Well now that I'm having the robotic equivalent of a lucid dream, it's time to find out exactly how far I can push it.

With a wave of my imaginary hands, the beach starts to extend off into the ocean, ending in a solid platform seemingly covered in electronics. Hopefully, if what I wanted worked out, that's a representation of my subconscious. The machine code that actually makes me, me.

I'm particularly interested in seeing exactly how I'm able to summon up some whole new part of my mind without having whatever my version is of lag, but hey, I'm just so smart it clearly isn't a problem. I think.

As I step onto the platform, the path back to the beach collapses, and the island itself disappears too, leaving me on my lovely little floating platform. Not wasting a minute (I don't know how much longer I'm gonna have in here), I step on over to the main terminal, and start fiddling around. Thankfully, it's in a nice and easy format to use that I can instantly understand and gives me all the answers straight away.

Funny, right? Always good to have a bit of humor in every bad situation. Like this one, where the terminal could've been a fucking clump of moss for all that it taught me. It looked like a Simon Says puzzle that mutated and grew seventeen hundred other buttons, and was currently playing Beethoven's 6th. Or something like that.

Well, fuck it. It's my own mind. What's the worst that could happen? I press one of the buttonssssssssssss̱s͏͎͇̺͉̖̯s̪̼̜̜̼͘s̞̰̙̤͓̬s̡s̸̝̼̲s̠̝̲̫͓͔͡s͖̭̰̥̞̥͠s͎̗͖̲̳̘sssssssaaaaannnd I'm back! Whew! Nice recovery on my part. Don't know what the fuck I did, but I didn't crash, which is great news.

Something is a bit different, though. I wonder. Hmm.

Is the platform different? Not especially.

What about my body? Seems to be much the same.

Anything I'm sensing differently? Apart from the normal usual HUD, nope-

Ah, wait a second. The HUD. The motherfucking HUD. Is it a HUD, even? If I'm not focusing on it, it looks like it's just part of my vision, but when I do...

It's a whole new sense. Like having your usual monitor at your desk, but then having a few others scattered all over the place, only doing a few things by themselves but together doing a hell of a lot more. It's not just numbers, either. It's like an instinctual knowledge of how hot or cold it is, or how fast I'm moving, or what the time is-

Ah, the time. Finally. I don't think it's once been mentioned, apart from one comment that helped me figure out that Eden Prime hasn't happened yet. And the date is...

Fourth of July, 2182. Huh. Forgot to do my daily prayer towards freedom and capitalism for today. A shame, but I think the galaxy should keep turning. But the real news is that I do actually have time.

I'm just not sure how much. Was Eden Prime 2183? Yeah, but what month, specifically? No clue. So I guess I get to do it blind, and just hope for the best.

So, what else is up with my new sixth sense I've just gained?

A few things, actually. Some of them even seem to be usable, somehow...

But another one is dragging my attention. Temperature, which had been blank before, is now actually working. Which means I've got my new body! Now I just need to wait for me to actually go online again...

Hmm...

You know, you'd think that after I said something like that my words would start trailing off and get corrupted. You know, perfect point for the transition and all. And everything else is starting up as well, from acceleration (currently zero!) to a whole suite of other different things that look faintly important.

So, what? Did whatever I do actually give me a modicum of control over this whole AI thing? Do I just will myself awake now?

Let's try it.

-

And I wake up. That's neat. Would've sucked to remain in that island world forever.

"Joule?"

"Yep, I'm up." I slowly sit up, steadying myself with my hands to get used to the new proportion. Fewer fingers, and the face mask is slightly weird considering that I don't actually need either a mask or face, but the rest of the internals pretty much just fill up the appropriate gaps in the uniform. Which raises a good point.

"I asked you if you could find an enviro-suit."

"Yeah, you did."

"Is this one of yours?"

"Well, it's not like Genn or anyone else is going to let me use theirs, now, is it?"

The only visual differences that I can actually make out right now between myself and Kii is the fact that I'm not wearing the usual decorative shawl, just the plain grey and black enviro-suit.

Perfect.

"Hey, Kii? Can I borrow your shawl quickly?"

Kii's already ahead of me, pulling another one off the table next to her. "Here ya go. Who first?"

"Who reacts best or worst to jokes?"

"Varan always laughs, no matter what, and Genn usually breaks something."

"Let's go pay a visit to Genn, eh?"

-

"Hey, Genn."

It's weird how easy it is to change your voice as a robot. It's like changing pitch as a human (or Quarian, I guess, having listened to Kii sing). It's just a tiny little change, and boom, new voice.

"Huh? What do you need, Kii?"

I scratch the back of my head, looking back over my shoulder out the door. "So, uh, Joule managed to find the guns and is currently rampaging around the Mass Effect Core, chanting some human war song. Think we should tell Varan?"

I swear I can almost see Genn's dropped jaw behind the mask. "You did what, Kii?"

"I did nothing, just suggested that perhaps it might be a good idea to rampage around the Mass Effect Core and chant a human war song. Nothing serious."

Genn growls, grabbing the pistol from the terminal desk in front of him and standing. "Once we kill this fucking AI, Kii, we're gonna have a long talk-"

"Oh, Genn!" Kii calls out from the doorway. "It's alright, I just handled it. Apparently suggesting the following words, and I quote, 'stop', works well enough."

"Thank god, for a second there I was-" Genn cuts off as he realizes there are two Kiis in the room.

"What?" Kii and I say in unison.

And then I hear the wonderful noise that is a Quarian screaming and throwing a pistol against a wall. Varan, of course, enters at just the right time.

"What the hell is going on here?"

I shrug. "I don't know, Varan-"

"- he just got really mad for some reason," Kii continues.

Varan nods and turns to Genn to tear him a new one. And then turns back very slowly.

"Which of you is the real one?" he asks.

We both point at each other.

"Let me rephrase that. I'm tossing one of you out the airlock, and it better be the one that can survive that."

I sigh. "The jig's up, Joule. Tell him."

Kii looks at me in surprise. "Wait, what?"

"Come on, let's go get you in a new enviro-suit or something."

Varan nods. "Good idea. I'm...not so sure I'm comfortable with this arrangement right now."

"Wait, what, I mean-" Kii seems to be stumbling over her words. "I'm the real Kii," she finishes lamely.

Genn looks at me from where he's been curled up on the floor. "Can you please get him under control? I don't want him getting the idea that he can just take on the identities of anyone on the ship. It's not right."

I nod. "Like what I'm doing right now, yeah?"

"Exa-"

Oh, the sounds of that Quarian roar of anger.

You know what? I like it here. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing to spend my time here till Eden Prime.


	6. A Proposition

A/N: Good evening. Took a short break, did some work. Now I'm back to write some more. I may also start a new story in the Wormverse, because I always enjoyed that setting.

Anyway. Hope you enjoy, as usual.

* * *

"Can I ask what you're doing, Joule?"

"Sure, ask away."

"What on Rannoch are you doing to the terminals?"

"Setting up the life support to flood the ship with deadly neurotoxins. You know, usual AI stuff."

Kii sighs. "And actually?"

I laugh. "Good to know you've got some faith in me. No, I've been fiddling around with the terminals, trying to get used to them. It's a really weird interface, so I ended up connecting myself and making something I'm a bit more comfortable with."

Kii approaches after a second, seeming a bit more wary. "Sorry, Joule, but didn't we have a long conversation about you connecting yourself to the computer systems of the ship?"

I nod. "Yep. In fact, when I just tried to set myself to be recognized as a bootable drive device, it almost immediately tore past that and blocked me. Not before I completed my goal, though!" I gesture in pride to the display.

She looks at it, and then to me. "It's blank, with that little flashing box in the bottom left."

"Exactly! I swear, booting up this terminal was a complete disgrace to computer-kind! It's like having tumors on tumors! It was a disgrace to tech-kind! I just had to put the poor machine out of its misery and make things a bit easier."

"And by that, you deleted everything?"

"No, no! Look and listen." I tap away at the keyboard for a few seconds, then hit enter. A wave of information creeps up on the screen, reporting green across the board. A few other statistics show up as well, from components next in need of repair, to onboard tech and cargo. It was remarkably similar to some of those warehouse stock inventories, offering a handy little search bar as well (they hadn't indexed their cargo! Were they mad?).

"Okay...uh - oh wait a second," Kii nods as she comprehends everything going on, "I see. Alright, fair enough. Listen, now that you're done with that, can you come join me in the cargo bay? There's a few items that we're missing and I want to know if we actually have them or we're all just hallucinating."

I laugh, and stand. "Sure enough. Lead the way."

* * *

Life is good. Or, virtual life. Or death, if I have turned into a drooling slob back in the real world and my mind is just frantically sparking a few final times before drifting off into the final sleep.

Wow, I'm really good at getting myself motivated for the new day, aren't I?

Of course, it's not like I actually sleep or anything. Hell, I don't even nap or snooze. Even the few times that I've been back to the mind-scape is just me turning off my outer input and just essentially turning my body into a game server to mess around in. Fun, for sure, but I've never really "turned off".

And now I'm waiting for the rest of the crew to wake up, while I do my own thing, which is really just waiting around for them to allow me to do more stuff.

These past few days, the rest of the crew have become a lot more used to me. It's partly easier because they're motherfucking space pirates, and thus don't have many problems with morals or ethics in the first place, up to and including artificial intelligences, but also because I'm clearly the most charming person that they've ever met in their lives.

In all seriousness, I'm getting pretty good at the whole tech thing. Who knew that becoming an artificial intelligence would do that to you? Either way, I've updated a whole bunch of the ship's systems and generally brought it up to the twenty-third century. Is it the twenty-third century? I always forget how the century thing works. If we had a Century Zero, we could have avoided the whole issue, but a little too late at this point, I guess.

Either way, these Quarians may be rocking the rustiest bucket this side of the Terminus Systems, but god damn if they don't have the best damn software running in the galaxy. It helps when I let myself stretch a bit into the systems: since I don't really need an immune system anymore, now catching a virus means a whole new thing. Luckily, I'm equipped to deal with it, and thankfully my mind seems to recognize bad code as, well, bad. Just like your body heals, my mind does the same, except it's an artificial extension of my mind at this point. Like if you have a skin graft, I guess? I'm gonna leave this analogy to die.

My main point is, these motherfucking Quarian space pirates are really liking what I've got, and they're happy to keep me on, which means I'm happy as well. After all, I can float around like this right up until Shepherd pops up from whatever rock (s)he's hiding under.

Of course, I can't let myself stay idle while (s)he prepares to save the galaxy. Instead, I'm doing the best thing I possibly _can_ do in my situation.

Making a sales pitch.

"You want us to go into Human territory." Varan's voice is incredibly blunt, like a baseball hat constantly bashing itself against my face.

I keep up my equivalent of a grin, meaning my eyes glow a little brighter. "Indeed."

He puts his face in his hands, drawing in a deep breath before looking up again. "Ignoring the whole thing where we're gonna be thrown into the brig of whatever ship we cross paths with, thanks to both being Quarian and actual, you know, criminals, I still need a reason for us to go off our usual route on whatever mad trip you want us to make."

I nod. "That's completely fair, and I do understand. But if this goes well, then you might be able to turn quite a profit on the returns."

Kii speaks up from her corner of the room. "You haven't even told us what you're selling! Because it's certainly not our cargo!"

I raise my hands in a placating gesture. "I understand that. But there's something more than just physical goods that we can provide the humans."

"Like what? Hard labor? I don't know about you, but generally humans don't need a Quarian's help to lift things."

"No, not physical! Mental! We can offer our services."

Varan shakes his head. "Perfect! Of course, how could I possibly skip over the option of becoming a mercantile ship for the Human Empire? What a great idea!"

"Hey, no need to be sarcastic. If you really feel that way, then we simplify it down into what _I_ can offer the humans: technical knowledge."

"You're what, gonna repair shit for them?"

"More than that. I'm going to build software for them. We go to some of these new frontier worlds, we build them some solid software to manage everything, and then continue on our way."

"So what do we get out of this, since clearly it's all you?"

"Well, you can still do some physical trade while we're moving on. More than that, though, you're still Quarians. It's not like I'm going to be the only one out in the field."

Kii hesitates, glancing at Varan. "Listen, Joule, great idea and everything, but you're missing something. Aliens don't _like_ us. They call us suit-rats, for Keelah's sake. I don't think it's going to be as easy as walking in and just offering to fix their shit."

I shake my head again. "Kii, these guys are humans. I am kind of a human, and I know from everything I remember that humans honestly don't know or care. Hell, you could walk in and tell them the Pilgrimage was either a search to Uplift everyone to the next level of existence, or an opportunity to go eat some alien babies, and they'd believe you either way."

"So..." Kii seems off balance, "I don't know what that means. Are you going to tell them one or the other?"

"Oh, no, Kii. We're going to tell them the absolute guaranteed method to get them on our side. We're going to tell them the truth."

Oh, boy, how I wish I could grin sometimes.

* * *

A/N: Just a quick roundabout the galaxy to establish setting and other characters, before we hit the first big plot point. Joy.


	7. An Apology (Update)

Hi all. Rootuser here.

It's been busy for me these past few weeks, and I really couldn't have chosen a worse place to start writing.

Luckily, with the winter hols coming up, I'm going to have a lot more time to relax, kick back, and start writing.

My hope is that I can actually do a little more for this story, along with beginning work on a few other projects I had in mind. Should be fun.

Thanks to those who liked and favorited and made sacrifices or whatever the process is on this website to appreciate someone's work. It's nice, and I enjoy the feeling.

Hopefully I can get a couple thousand words up today, even.

See you in a bit.


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